I’m in a city without technology in a postapocalyptic world. Six of us gather in a crowded street and discuss a mission a bit too loudly for my taste. We all take on identities of known and targeted allies. A car passes by, an agent from outside the city, somewhere with technology. The idea astonishes me. We grab our mission bags and we are sent off. Suddenly everyone from our huddled group quickly recede into the small and busy alleyways of the stone city. I run up narrow stairs and turn into a great plaza but I’ve lost everyone and I become aware of my lack of orientation… the dimness of my wits. Nothing is familiar to me. I can’t plan ahead because I know nothing about this world and our mission… I start to realize I can't get far into the mission. A group beckons me. They are taking a picture for a departure at the entrance of a large tunnel leading below the plaza. The photographer above the tunnel tells me with emphasis to make sure to say the word, as if it were a special instruction. I think he must be with our mission and I have found the way. The word is “dimwit.” We all say “dimwit!” and there’s a flash. I get ahead of myself and drunkenly call a few people dimwits with no ill intent. Yet, I walk into the tunnel thinking I’m being kind of an ass. Coming on the other side, the city now feels particularly medieval and I realize I still don’t know where I am going. Now, I have an evident underlying knowledge that I am dreaming because I know my dimwittedness is intrinsic to the dream so I wonder if this fact is a insurmountable obstacle to my mission. But then, I think it might also come to my advantage because the dream can guide me. So I continue with the intention of continuing the dream narrative. But I get distracted. Here, there’s a small plaza. The stone walls are high and intricate and giant enlightenment era paintings hang on them. I think this wouldn’t do well in the rain but in this dream, I appreciate it. There’s an entertainer playing music and dancing on a stage behind cumbersome columns and arches. No one else is dancing but I decide to go for it. I let the lute and recorder music move me as I take the time to appreciate this otherworldly place. I think “this is all in my mind. And it’s all real but instead of coming from outside of me, I am seeing inside of me. My psyche is manifesting this.” A blackness engulfs more and more of the dream as I think until only one wall and an arched alleyway beside it remain. The music has dimmed also but I am not worried and I touch the wall stones with my finger and feel the hardness, the texture. This is as real as any stone I have ever touched in waking life. And I repeat to myself, this is real in the sense that it manifests from my very real psyche and I hesitate but I allow myself to feel the feeling that comes with the “aha, I am lucid dreaming!” moment. Following that, I remember the TOTY. “Superheroes” I shout for emphasis and to guide me toward memory. “that’s right! I want to know my superhero form! And name! And costume! Yes, that’s it! I want to know my superhero form, costume and name!” The goal is so clear in my mind as it’s rarely been. I am excited. Amidst this, a modern girl my age comes in from the blackness. She moves quickly, her face looks concentrated and worried. She interacts with the wall here and there. From the blackness a new room has manifested, more modern. The walls are plain white except for my stone wall. None of the walls of the room are parallel to each other. Like the stone wall, my psyche has manifested the girl and it’s easier for me to talk to a person than stones, so I decide she’s the ambassador of the dream. “Hello! Please show me my superhero form, name and costume!” I say childishly giddy to remember all three parts of the task. She looks confused at me and runs past me to another part of the wall. I lose none of my confidence and call out to her again. “Show me my superhero form, name and costume!” We move toward the middle of the room where she interacts with a circle in the floor. She’s still unwilling to help me, too busy with her own tasks. I say “Hey, I would be more helpful as a superhero!” She thinks on that and agrees. I watch and feel my hands morph, grow slowly bigger, wider, orange and I can feel my body overall has followed suit. My superhero form is a tiny orange Hulk, I’m barely any taller, only just much wider and a different color. I move my arms and feel they are shorter because of the change of proportions. As for my costume, I am wearing a modern medieval tunic, white, green, and brown. As promised, I start dismantling the metal pieces forming the circle. It’s quite intricate. Then I stop. “Oh, wait! And my superhero name?” She smiles and says “Dimwit” more jokingly than seriously it seems and looks back at the circle. Now there’s a doppelganger of my superhero self taking the lead on dismantling the circle and she looks pleased. “Hey, who’s this one now?” I ask. “This was a good idea, he’s really good at this,” she comments. Now I feel awakened, in a bedroom perhaps. I hear her talking with someone in a different room. Should I go or is it too late and I am awakened? The feeling that I am awake is too strong and so I choose to wake up fully.